


All Roads Lead to Hell

by cadkitten



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Sex, Angst, Cumshot, Explicit Language, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Incest, M/M, Original Character(s), Rimming, Scratching, Spanking, Unrequited Love, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-27
Updated: 2013-02-27
Packaged: 2017-12-03 18:48:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/701477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadkitten/pseuds/cadkitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Bedtime Stories had gone a little differently. (Set Season 3, Episode 5) Sam’s been hiding something from Dean for a long time, but with his bother on the verge of death, he knows it’s well past time he tells him the truth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Roads Lead to Hell

**Author's Note:**

> Beta Readers: sakura_ame  
> Song[s]: "A Thousand Years" by The Piano Guys
> 
> It's my first time writing in the Supernatural fandom, so any feedback would be appreciated! *nervous*

“Look… those were my brothers. How would you feel if it were your brother?”

Sam swallowed thickly, his eyes studying the victim for one long moment before he quietly offered, “I couldn’t imagine anything worse.” The words held a heavy weight, particularly given his and Dean’s argument the night before. He’d been working his every free moment to try to find some way to get Dean free of his binding promise with the crossroads demon. And somehow… Dean had found out. The resulting argument had been something Sam had never wanted to have happen. The words were bitter… biting… and they cut him deeper than possibly any others that Dean had ever spoken.

The bearded victim just stared at him, something about the moment telling perhaps more than any investigator should have let through, but given all that had happened as of late, Sam found he sincerely couldn’t help it.

Sam slowly closed his fake sketch book, his eyes on his own slightly shaking hands. “Excuse me for a moment.” He turned on his heel and slipped out of the room, leaving Dean and the stunned victim behind. Making his way out of the building, he headed straight for the Impala. Using his set of keys, he opened the passenger door and slid inside. He shrugged out of his jacket and loosened his tie, staring at the glove box that held the Colt. It would be so simple… summon the bitch without Dean knowing, late at night, all alone. And either force her out of the deal or put a bullet in her.

But there was the problem of her little loophole. She’d said if Dean tried to squirm out of it, she’d know and the deal would be off. Dean and Sam would both die. He leaned his head back against the headrest and slid both hands up into his hair, tugging at the brown strands in frustration. What was he supposed to do? Was he supposed to simply let things slip past? Allow the year to go by as if nothing was wrong? As if every single thing Dean did during this year didn’t hurt him in ways that it seriously should not have?

He slammed his fist against the side of the door, a few tears sliding unbidden down his cheeks. Dean would make fun of him if he could see him right now, call him a pussy or something worse. But Sam had always been the most sensitive of the two, the one willing to cry when it needed to happen, willing to show his anguish on the outside when Dean just wouldn’t.

Swallowing hard at the lump in his throat, he swiped the tears away and straightened up in his seat. He knew what he needed to do, but he also knew he just couldn’t. He needed to tell Dean everything, the truth from all those years ago and the truth of right then. He needed to open up his heart and spill it out for his brother to see. But could he bleed like that? Right out in the open, completely vulnerable to his brother’s reactions? He wasn’t so sure he could live with it if it changed things between them in a way he didn’t want. What if Dean hated him for the truth? What if he abandoned him after all they’d done for one another? What if –worse – he reacted with pity and gave in out of some misguided, fucked up, little thought?

Sam opened the door of the Impala and slid out, the gravel crunching under his feet as he stood. He locked the door back and slammed it shut. And turning, he simply walked away. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing or where he was going, but he knew that right then, he needed to be as far from Dean as possible.

The hours slipped past and Sam just kept walking, his path never a straight line. He didn’t feel like the world catching up to him right then. He knew they had work to do, a werewolf to catch, but he couldn’t bring himself to deal with reality right then. For just one night, Sam wanted everything to go his way, even if just in his mind.

As if in answer to his prayers, the neon sign of a bar flickered on as it came into view. He could drown it all in alcohol. Waste the night away on a barstool, drink after drink drowning out his sorrows, providing him with the false dream he so desired. For the hundredth time, his phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out, glancing down to see Dean’s name lit up on the screen. He was probably scaring him to death. The thought wrenched his gut and he sighed, finally answering the phone. “Dean… I’m fine. Leave me alone. I just need a night… alone. Don’t look for me, I’ll come back to the hotel when I’m ready.”

“Sammy, I-“

“Goodnight, Dean.” He hung up the phone, shoving it back into his pocket and crossing the parking lot to the entrance of the bar. Once he was inside, he realized it was of a higher class than their usual haunts. The floors were polished black with silver worked into the seams. The bars and stools gleamed in the multi-color lights from overhead. There were only a few people inside so early in the evening, but they were all far better dressed than he was, being without his suit jacket and tie.

He ran a hand self-consciously through his hair as he approached the bar. Settling down, he immediately found a cocktail napkin pushed in front of him, along with a small bowl of pretzels. “What’ll it be?”

Glancing up, he found a young man in front of him, his eyes almost aqua in color, his blonde hair spiked out in every which direction. One arm bore an intricate dragon tattoo, the other still free of markings, and through his nose, a single septum ring. This used to be his kind of man… when he was allowing himself to date men and not trying to lie to Dean about who he was and what his preferences were. For a long moment, he just allowed himself to take it in, finding that he held no spark of desire any longer. Shame filtered through him and he looked down at the bar. “Whiskey. Straight.”

A tumbler arrived on the table in front of him, neatly in the center of the napkin with a practiced sort of ease. Amber liquid splashed into the glass. “Five fifty.”

Sam just pulled out his wallet, sliding a card across the table top. “Tab. I’ll be a while.”

The guy leaned on the counter, studying him as Sam lifted the glass and took half of it in one go. “Driving?”

“Nope.”

The bartender made a soft sound and then nodded. “I see… drowning something then?”

“Yup.”

“Want to talk about it?” The guy chuckled as he leaned on the bar next to him, one of his co-workers taking care of everything else for the time being. “After all… that’s what a bartender is for, right?”

Sam looked up at him, his gut wrenching to see a little sparkle of hope in the guy’s eyes. … So he could read him like a fucking book. One day Dean was bound to notice that it was always Sammy who got hit on by the men. And he wasn’t sure he wanted that day to come, because it’d bring more questions than he wanted to answer. Looking back down at his drink, he gestured at the bottle. “How much for all of it?”

“Thirty… because I’m being nice.” He opened it and placed it on the counter in front of Sam, picking up one of the pretzels and popping it in his mouth.

“Right… good.” Sam poured himself a full glass and then leveled his gaze with the other man. “Have you ever been so incredibly in love that it hurt? But at the same time… it was the most forbidden thing in existence?”

The guy shook his head. “Can’t say I have.” He held out his hand to Sam. “Jake, by the way.”

Sam glanced at the card on the counter, glad it said Samuel on it. “Sam.” He took his hand for a moment, almost angry that there wasn’t any spark, not even upon contact with the other’s skin. “Well, Jake… it fucking sucks.”

Jake nodded. “I bet it does. No offense, but you look pretty miserable right now.”

“Rightfully.” He sighed, his eyes flicking to the mirror behind the bar, watching two men playing pool behind him. “I’m in love with a man who’s slated to die in less than a year. And there’s not a fucking thing either of us can do about that.”

Jake winced, shaking his head with a low whistle. “That’s some deep shit, man.” He refilled Sam’s once again empty glass. “But… does he know?” Sam gave him an odd look and he quickly amended. “That you love him, I mean.”

“Ah… well… in a way. But not the way I really do.” He swirled the amber liquid around in the glass and took another pull from it. He was already feeling it, completely light-headed, his arms growing heavy from the alcohol as it coursed through his body.

“Why don’t you tell him? I mean… if I were going to die in a year, I’d want to know someone like you loved me.” The guy offered a lopsided smile and then pulled out a cherry from the bin, plucking the stem off and popping the cherry in his mouth. After he’d swallowed, he began to play with the double stem, twisting it up into the shape of a heart and placing it on the counter next to Sam. “You don’t seem like a bad guy… just a little lost.”

“More than a little,” Sam replied, staring down at the heart, a sick sort of feeling in his gut. “I just… God… I want to tell him. But at the same time, I’m terrified of how he’ll react.” He could feel the waterworks queuing up again and he valiantly fought to hold them back. “I don’t want him to die without knowing, but at the same time I don’t want him to hate me for the rest of his life. Right now… this… this is nice. It’s better than we’ve ever had. But…”

“It’s not what you want?” Jake offered. 

Sam nodded, staring down at his glass again, feeling possibly more lost than he had since he’d started feeling this way for Dean all those years ago.

Jake took the bottle and re-capped it, pushing it back under the counter. He ran the card for ten dollars and handed it back to Sam. “Get out of here. Go wherever he is and tell him what you told me. Tell him you’re afraid, tell him it scares the fuck out of you. But most of all… tell him how much you love him.” He reached to squeeze Sam’s hand. “A man like you deserves happiness.”

Sam stared up at him, his eyes glistening faintly with unshed tears. After a moment, he slammed back the rest of the glass and stood up. There was a brief second of hesitation and then he slipped the little heart into his pocket, flashing a smile at the other. “You know… if it all gets fucked up… I’m blaming you.”

“That’s fine,” Jake murmured. “Everyone needs someone to blame and if it might help you find happiness, I’m willing to be that person.” He smiled at Sam and gestured at the door. “Now go.”

Sam moved away from the counter, heading to the door and slipping out into the cool night air. There was a light drizzle and as he started to walk, he began to regret no having taken his jacket from the car. That had been foolish on his part.

Almost half an hour later, he stood in front of their hotel room. He’d passed the Impala in the parking lot and he had felt a little of his resolve crumble at the sheer idea of what he was about to do. And now that he stood at the door, he almost felt like he should never have left the bar, that he should have kept his mouth shut and tried something with Jake. But there had been no attraction there, no spark of interest or desire. He was so fixated on Dean that nothing else could ever hold a candle to how he felt for his brother.

Pushing his wet hair back behind his ears, he stepped forward and knocked. “Dean? It’s me… Sam.”

The door jerked open a few moments later and Dean stood there, staring at him. There was an air of panic about him, his mouth stretched taut in that way that implied he’d been gritting his teeth, and his eyes slightly red, giving away that he’d been rubbing at them for hours now, something he tended to do out of frustration. “Sammy…” he stared at him for a long moment and then stepped back, “get inside, you’re soaking wet.”

Sam stepped inside, Dean closing the door behind him. He heard the lock click into place and then the chain and he surveyed the room, finding two queen beds, one of them with a bunch of junk piled on top of it, the other clear and neat, obviously waiting on Sam to fall into it. He hung his head. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t bring Dean’s world crashing down on top of him.

A strong hand came to rest on his shoulder and then a towel slid over his hair. “Sam… what’s going on?” There was a certain amount of worry in Dean’s voice, the sort that Sam didn’t often hear there, and knowing he was the cause of it wrenched his heart in a way he’d rather it hadn’t. He closed his eyes and just felt. Dean’s hands worked at drying his hair off and then the towel brushed lightly over his face and neck. “You’re frozen, Sammy.” Not for the first time in Sam’s life, Dean began to undo the top button his shirt. He always went into this mode with him when he wouldn’t respond. He’d take his shirt off and then he’d take Sam’s hands and place them on his belt, tell him to take his pants off and get in the shower. It was the same each time, no matter if it was rain or sweat or blood.

A single tear trickled down his cheek, rolling over without his permission. “Dean…”

“Yes, Sammy?” Dean worked open the third button on his shirt, his knuckle brushing over his brother’s chest ever so slightly.

Sam stood there, looking utterly lost. After a few more moments – and a few more buttons – he sighed, placing his hands over Dean’s. “We need to talk.”

“I already told you to let it go. There’s no way out of the deal.” Dean’s voice sounded slightly frustrated, but firm nonetheless.

“Not about that.” Sam realized his voice was wavering, his hands shaking as he pushed Dean’s away from him and quickly undid the last few buttons, un-tucking his shirt. He sniffed slightly, pulling his shirt off and tossing it onto the heap of Dean’s own dirty clothes. He stared at it for a long moment. They were bloody and slightly muddy. “Took care of it?”

“Yes.”

“On your own?” He bowed his head, knowing the answer, but asking the question anyway.

“Yes. It wasn’t difficult.”

Sam nodded, quietly emptying his pockets, realizing he’d left the card at the bar. Well… an excuse to go back if things got fucked up then. He placed everything on the dresser and stepped out of his shoes, adding his socks to the pile of dirty clothes. After a moment, he looked back up at Dean and then leaned against the dresser, his arms lightly crossed over his stomach. “Dean…” he swallowed thickly. This was it. It was all or nothing. No point in going halfway here. “I… I love you.”

Dean stared at him for a moment and then quietly laughed. “I know, Sammy. And I love you, too. It’s… sort of a given, yeah?” He looked slightly amused, shaking his head. “All drunk and you open up like a can of worms, huh?”

Sam pursed his lips and turned his head away, one hand reaching for the dresser, rubbing lightly at a dip in the wood. “Not like that, Dean… not like I should.” His jaw clenched for a moment and then he pushed on ahead. “I love you in another kind of way and I know it’s wrong, but I can’t stop it. I love you like… like mom loved dad.” He couldn’t look at him, simply couldn’t stand to know what kind of look his brother was giving him right then. He imagined all sorts of things: disgust, horror, pity. None of them were the reaction he wanted, so he simply didn’t look. Because there was simply no way in hell that Dean felt that way about him.

The sound of the bed springs creaking gave away where Dean was at. Sam could hear the sound of his sigh as he settled down and then the rustle of cloth over cloth. “Sammy…” Dean’s voice didn’t sound at all the way Sam had expected. He’d thought anger would be in it, even revulsion. But sadness was the last thing he ever expected to hear. Looking up, he found Dean with his head in his hands, hunched over, his elbows propped on his knees. “God damn it, Sammy…”

Sam moved then, pushing away from the dresser and crossing the room, kneeling in front of Dean and reaching for his hands. He stopped halfway, his hand hovering in the air uselessly, his breath stuck in his throat. He could see the tears slipping from his brother’s cheeks, plopping silently onto the floor. Nothing about his reaction made any sense to Sam and he found himself utterly lost, his thoughts flitting by so quickly he couldn’t grasp onto a single one completely. “Please, I-“

“You what? You take it back?” Dean lifted his head, staring right into Sam’s eyes. “You can’t fucking take it back. I won’t let you.” He reached out and with surprisingly quick movements, he was kneeling in the floor in front of Sam, his hand in his brother’s hair, tugging harshly, his lips crashing into Sam’s own.

Sam gasped, his hands instantly on Dean’s biceps, clinging to him as he was manhandled. And then those soft lips were on his own, caressing and tasting, Dean’s tongue pressing against his mouth in a silent request for entry. He groaned, unable to stop the instant response of his body. He pressed toward Dean, trying to get as close to him as possible as he kissed him back with an equal ferocity. His belly quivered with the desire that began to well up inside him. This… this was all he’d ever imagined it to be. All the times they’d been mistaken as lovers, all the times he’d silently watched his brother parade his naked body around their shared room… this was what he’d been imagining.

And when Dean’s hands slid down to his pants, unfastening the belt and then thumbing open the button, Sam had to admit to himself that this was better than any of the times he’d spent fantasizing about this moment alone in the shower each night. He just allowed it to happen, allowed Dean to dictate everything. He let his brother slide his pants off, the solid thump of them hitting the wall jarring him into realizing he wasn’t just dreaming again. He stared up at Dean as he hovered over him, knowing it was obvious how much he wanted the other if he only looked down his body.

“Say something, Sammy.” Dean’s fingers lightly trailed over his cheek and then down his neck and across his shoulder to the newest of his wounds, a bullet wound he’d gotten as a souvenir from a woman who wasn’t even a demon. “Tell me I’m not fucking up here.”

Sam let out a soft gasp of breath, shivering under the touch. He let his head fall back on the floor and he chuckled. “You’re not fucking up.” He hesitated a moment and then raised his hips, pressing his arousal against Dean’s belly. The touch was like lightening to him. Pleasure hummed along every nerve ending in his body and he groaned, unable to hold in the immediate reaction. “Oh god, Dean… please.”

Dean studied him for a long few moments before pulling himself out of the floor and holding out his hand. “Get up.” He tugged him up from the floor and then off toward the bathroom. “This is so fucked up… you know that, don’t you?”

Sam stumbled after him, feeling like his legs had half forgotten how to operate. “I know… trust me, I know.”

Dean heaved out a soft sigh, closing the bathroom door behind them and moving to turn on the shower. He tossed the non-slip mat into the tub and then pulled his shirt off over his head, hanging it on the back of the door. He started to untie his sweatpants and then flicked his gaze up to meet Sam’s. “Do you want to do this?”

“Yes,” he breathed it out in a manner that was almost reverent. Stepping in, he untied the knot holding the pants in place and then slipped his fingers into the waistband, pushing them down over Dean’s hips, his eyes watching every moment of what he was doing. He’d seen his brother naked a hundred times, but never was it like this. He’d even walked in on him when he was with someone, had seen more than enough to know what he looked like aroused. But it didn’t compare to this moment, because this moment was his and his alone. He let the pants slip to the floor, his fingers brushing over Dean’s hips, sliding inward to trail over the smooth-shaven skin he found there.

Dean watched his brother, his eyes following Sam’s every movement. It was somehow endearing the way Sam explored him, as if he were memorizing every single second of this. He reached up, running his hand through Sam’s hair, a fine mist spraying up from it. “Tell me what you want, Sammy.”

He didn’t have to wait but a second for Sam’s reply. “You… I want you, Dean.”

“I know.” He grinned at him, reaching to cup the front of his boxer briefs, sliding his fingers over the rigid outline of the other’s arousal. “It’s pretty obvious.”

Sam’s cheeks heated up slightly and he looked away, his breath catching for a second. “I just-“

“Sammy, if you apologize, I swear I’ll make this harder on you.”

Sam’s mouth snapped shut and he flushed slightly, shifting uncomfortably for a moment.

Dean sighed. “Okay… just answer me this then,” he stepped closer and reached for Sam’s underwear, pushing them down his hips, carefully pulling them over his erection and letting them fall to the floor in a sodden heap. “Which way did you see this going?”

Sam’s head jerked up and he glowered at Dean for a moment before brushing past him, opening the shower curtain and stepping in. Once he was safely out of view, he murmured, “There’s only one way it ever would, Dean. You know that as well as I do.”

The chuckle Dean let slip free was at least a tiny bit on the sinister side. “Mmm… I’m glad you see it the way I do, then.” There was a little bit of rummaging and then he stepped into the shower behind Sam. He pulled his brother flush against him, Sam’s backside to his groin as he dipped his head, tasting the other’s flesh. “You know how very fucking wrong this is, don’t you?”

Sam stiffened a little, his jaw working for a moment before he let out a soft breath and hung his head. “I know. It’s possibly the biggest sin I’ve ever committed.”

“Mmm…” Dean’s lips grazed over his shoulder as he guided him to rest his arms against the wall, the shower’s spray warming them up. “I wouldn’t say the biggest. After all… love can’t be entirely wrong, can it?”

Sam let out a wet little laugh, his head bowed, shoulders straining to hold him in place. “You know… that may be the sweetest thing you’ve ever said.”

“Don’t get used to it.” Dean slid his hands over Sam’s hips and then around to his ass, grasping the well-toned globes in his hands for a moment. With a soft groan, he slipped to his knees behind Sam, spreading his cheeks and letting the water flow over him for a few moments, one finger teasing lightly at the puckered hole. 

Sam’s legs turned instantly to jelly, his eyes sliding shut as he just took in the sensation. He’d been with other men in the past, but no matter what, nothing was ever going to live up to this. Having Dean was a huge sin and they both knew it, but the fact of it was… he needed him. He needed him like nothing else in his entire life.

Pushing his hips back toward Dean, he whispered, “Please.”

Dean shifted forward, his tongue flicking out over that tight hole, teasing and pleasuring. Sam turned into a whimpering mess, clutching at the wall like he’d gone mad. Dean smirked a little, placing a kiss to his lower back and standing up. He pushed his hips forward, letting Sam feel his growing arousal, pressing it against the back of his thigh as he pulled the lube he’d gotten out earlier off the side of the tub. Popping open the cap, he poured some on his fingers and then shifted into the spray of the water so he wouldn’t end up rinsing it all away. Slowly, he slid one finger into his brother’s tight passage, listening to him moan. “You’ve done this before.” It wasn’t a question, just a simple statement of fact.

Sam stood there, his forehead pressed against the wall, his eyes still closed as he simply felt what Dean was doing to him. It was dirty and it should have been humiliating. But it simply wasn’t when Dean was the one doing it. When Dean spoke, Sam simply nodded. There was nothing to gain by lying to him now. He was rock hard and his body was accepting Dean’s finger in a manner that told of what he spent some nights doing in the bathroom alone. His fingers curled over the little soap holder and he let out a needy little sound. “Please.”

“You keep saying that, Sammy.” Dean’s lips grazed over his shoulder, the smile evident in his voice. “Tell me what you want.”

Sam swallowed thickly, not sure he could actually voice his desires. But after a moment, he found the strength, knowing he needed to. “I need you inside me.”

“Need… such a strong word.” Dean slid his finger free of Sam’s body, his hand grabbing his ass and squeezing for a moment before he lightly slapped it. He moved behind him, pushing his cock along Sam’s crack for a few languid thrusts. He reached to the side of the tub once again, picking up a condom and ripping it open. The foil fell to the floor at their feet as he pulled back enough to roll the condom over his length. He poured some more lube over his cock, letting it drip down to Sam’s body. Steadying himself against the wall, he took his cock in hand and pressed the head of it against Sammy’s opening. “Are you ready for this?”

“Never been more ready in my life,” Sam breathed out, relaxing as best he could, breathing steady as he waited on that first, blissful moment to occur. And when it did, he cried out Dean’s name, clutching at the wall in front of him as he pushed his ass back toward his brother. “Oh please!”

“Always please, Sammy…” Dean grasped his shoulder, using it for leverage as he began to move, thrusting solidly in and out of him, watching his cock disappear into his brother’s body. On some level, he knew he should be ashamed, but on another, he wasn’t at all. This was what Sammy wanted and he was already going to hell, there wasn’t much more that could help him find his way there, now was there? And maybe… maybe there was something redeeming about giving Sammy his one big wish.

Sam stood there, uncertain how he was even still remaining upright. Pleasure washed over him with every single thrust Dean made into his body. His cock felt like it had been made for him, a perfect fit in every single way. The tip brushed just barely against the most pleasurable of places and the width wasn’t too much, but definitely enough. He could feel his brother’s hips as they pressed into him each time, feel the way he was straining to maintain a consistent pace, to not lose control and blindly fuck. And he found himself grateful for it as he stood there, clutching the wall.

After a few minutes, Dean reached for Sam, pulling him upright and flush against his chest. He slid his hand up over Sam’s hip and then lightly grazed his nails down over his abdomen. When he finally grasped his length, Sam’s cry was music to his ears. He gave him short little thrusts, rolling his hips against his ass as he began to stroke him, his touches languid, not in the least bit rushed. “Let it all out, Sammy… let yourself go. It’s okay.” He pressed his lips to his shoulder again. “You’re safe with me.”

The last words were what ripped him open. Sam clutched at Dean’s wrist, his other hand lifting to spear into his brother’s hair as he clung to him for dear life. He let out a quiet gasp and then a sob, tears overflowing down his cheeks as he turned his face up into the spray. He trembled in Dean’s arms, the feelings he was giving him like nothing else ever had been before. “Tell me,” he whispered, “tell me you love me.”

Dean’s tongue slid across the other’s shoulder as he gave him a particularly rough jerk, his hips moving faster. “I love you, Sammy. And I’ll love you all the way to hell.” His fingers tightened, his hand moving faster. “Now give it to me… let me feel you lose it, Sammy.”

Something about his name coming from Dean’s lips like that was the end of it all for him. With a quiet cry, he arched into Dean’s hand, his cock slipping through his fingers one more time before he found heaven. And it was a bliss like no other. It was everything he’d ever imagined and so much more. In that moment, he had nothing left to worry about, nothing left to hold him down. The chains around his soul eased and the shutters around his heart burst open. And for one moment, he was utterly and completely Dean’s.

When he came back to himself, he could feel Dean straining to both hold him up and keep fucking him, obviously on the verge himself. He reached for the ledge again, clutching it and supporting a portion of his own weight as Dean eased back from him a little bit. And Sam knew he was watching himself fuck. It was one of the few dirty little secrets he’d gotten out of Dean, years and years ago. The sight of his own cock slipping into someone’s body was his undoing and one of the many reasons he liked to come from behind. A smile pulled at Sam’s lips as he imagined the look on Dean’s face, the knowledge somewhere in there that he was fucking his own brother, and yet enjoying the sight of it all the same.

He gasped when Dean suddenly pulled out. The sound of the condom snapping off echoed around the small room and then sticky warmth painted his backside. Elation swept through Sam. He knew Dean was touching himself, right there behind him, jerking himself to completion and allowing Sam to feel it as he came all over him. Warmth flooded him and he moaned out his approval, shivering as Dean pressed his cock against his crack, sliding against him for a few more rough thrusts before he completely stilled.

“Ah, shit… Sammy…” Dean breathed out.

Sam smiled to himself, still trying to catch his own breath from their actions. “Dean…” he offered in return.

And in that very moment, he knew one thing for certain. If they’d been unbreakable before, then they were certain to be a thousand times stronger like this. “Jerk,” he murmured out affectionately, a grin working its way onto his lips, anticipating the response and knowing this time it’d mean something completely different.

Dean let out a rough chuckle as he pulled Sam up and turned him around. He stared into his eyes for a moment and then whispered out, “Bitch,” before he crushed his mouth against his brothers’.

If this was hell… then Sam thought, surely it was worth it.

**The End**


End file.
